


Take Me For a Ride

by l57371



Category: House M.D.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-04 18:46:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6670492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/l57371/pseuds/l57371
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wilson is afraid of House's motorcycle. House teaches him there's no reason for that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Me For a Ride

“No, House!” Wilson jumped to the side and flailed his arm out in an attempt to catch the helmet that came flying toward his midsection.

“Well, if you’d rather ride without it, I can strap it on behind,” House replied, clipping his cane to the side and swinging his left leg over the Repsol.

Wilson strode angrily to the front of the imposing motorbike, clutching the helmet tightly to his chest. “I’d rather not ride at all, you know that!” He covered his eyes with one hand and shook his head, pacing in front of the bike. His expensive shoes clicked on the pavement, tapping out a staccato of irritation, and his spring jacket swished behind him, unzipped and loose. The bike was parked in the doctors’ lot, diagonally across one of the large handicapped spots between a shiny new BMW and beautiful classic Jaguar. The expensive cars added greatly to the ambiance of the lot but severely restricted Wilson’s pacing space.

“You needed a ride, I’m giving you a ride. Why is this a problem?” House settled himself into the saddle and fitted the key into the ignition. He reached into his leather jacket and pulled out his shades with a flourish. He seated them over his eyes, quirking his lips and mugging at his friend while he waited for the inevitable blowup.

Wilson stalked back over to House, still holding the helmet under one arm and placing the other on his hip. He leaned close and hissed under his breath, “You know I don’t like that … that … death machine of yours!” He raked his eyes over said machine. “And you still owe me money for the registration.”

“Do I? Really?” House feigned confusion. “Then you can take the cost of this trip off that then, right?” He raised his gaze and waggled his eyebrows. “Come on then, hop on, Jimmy my boy! You’re in for a real treat.”

“House you know-” Wilson broke off and began to breathe a little heavily. He ran a hand over his hair and turned away, breathed again, and turned back. “You know-”

“Yes,” House interrupted, his voice uncharacteristically low and gentle. “I know. But you know I’d never do anything crazy enough to kill you, right?”

Wilson furrowed his eyebrows and shot House a scathing look.

“Okay, yes, myself, but not you.” House patted the seat behind him. “So get on, get comfy and hold tight.”

Wilson hesitated a moment more, paced away and back again, then finally shoved the helmet onto his head, muttering darkly under his breath as he fasted it tightly under his chin. He swung his leg over and landed lightly on the pillion seat, bringing his feet up to the pegs and resting his hand tentatively over House’s hips.

House snorted and twisted around to face him. “You may have noticed the lack of a back rest?” He grabbed Wilson’s hands and pulled as he turned forward again, yanking Wilson’s body up against his own and wrapping the other man’s arms around his own torso. “You’re going to fall off the first time I gun the motor if you don’t hang on tight, okay?” His lips pulled up into a smile and he suppressed a small shudder as he felt Wilson’s hot breath huff out of him and skate over the exposed skin of his neck.

Perfect, he thought.

House flicked the key and punched the starter button, twisting the throttle grip lightly as the engine roared to life. Wilson’s arms around his waist tightened in an involuntary spasm and House waited a moment until he felt the other man relax against his back once more. He twisted his head around and raised his voice.

“Okay?” he asked optimistically.

“Yeah, fine,” Wilson replied, his voice tight and just a little higher than usual. “Just go.”

House nodded and brought the bike up vertical, pushed back the side stand and kicked the gearshift down into first. Slowly, gently, he twisted the grip and eased out the clutch, starting the bike rolling smoothly and pulling out of the parking spot in what was supposed to have been a tight circle, but turned into a wobbly elliptical when Wilson clutched harshly at House’s jacket and wrenched his body upright instead of leaning into the turn.

“Jeee-zus, Wilson!” House cried sharply, bringing the bike to a quick stop and bouncing a little on the forks. “Lean! Lean into the curves! Don’t do that again or you really are going to throw us both!”

“Sorry, sorry, House,” Wilson stammered, his breath coming fast and harsh. “Look, maybe this isn’t such a good-”

“Fine, it’s fine,” House quickly overrode him, talking over him. “It’ll be fine, just remember to not go against the angle of the bike, okay?”

Wilson merely nodded and resumed his death grip on House’s abdomen.

“Just … relax and let me drive, alright?” House turned back to the handlebars and kicked down on the shift lever again.

“Right, relax,” Wilson muttered. House felt the leather of his jacket shift as Wilson tightened his fingers in it.

“Here we go, take two,” House called over the sound of the engine revving up again.

He eased it carefully forward again, slowly and smoothly accelerating through the parking lot and down the approach to the street, timing it so that he could slide smoothly into traffic without stopping at the entrance. This time Wilson went with the lean but House could feel a small shiver go through the other man’s thighs as he angled the bike through the turn.

House drove through the twilight streets of Princeton, much more sanely than he usually did. He did the speed limit, he signaled turns, he even stopped at stop signs. It should have been a boring drive, but the feel of the other man pressed up against his back, his muscles twitching with every shift of the gear, every turn, every change in speed, made his heart race the way the speed and danger usually did. No, more so.

It was enough of a rush that House didn’t want it to end.

Instead of turning into his neighbourhood and heading for home, he stayed on the main road and headed towards the edge of town, timing his approach to intersections and stop lights so that he wouldn’t actually have to stop. If he stopped, Wilson would have the chance to ask him where he was going, would have the chance to object. Of course, it didn’t stop him at all.

“Where are you going?” Wilson shouted over the wind rushing past them. “You missed the turn!”

House tipped his head back and angled his face toward Wilson’s while still keeping an eye on the road ahead. “Thought you might like a bit more of a ride!”

“Why?! Why would you think that?!” Wilson hollered, disbelief evidence in his slightly hysterical voice.

“You were doing so well up to now!” House yelled. “And you ain’t seen nothing yet!” he continued as he rolled through the last stop light before the highway. He eased the throttle open a little more and soon the Repsol was growling along the darkening country road, twisting through the green fields in the warm night air.

Wilson’s arms tightened around House’s belly even more and House was nearly afraid for his lung capacity. Wilson’s legs tightened against House’s, the heat bleeding through all the layers of denim, leather and cotton and searing House’s skin where they touched.

“Open your eyes!” House commanded without even looking, knowing that the other man’s terror was overtaking him. “Smell the air!”

Wilson’s head came up as he did as he was told, and after another ten miles or so House finally felt Wilson’s muscles relaxing a little. He was even leaning into the curves in the road. Finally, he thought. Maybe now…?

House began to decelerate as he came to a wide spot on the shoulder of the highway, pulling into the attached rest stop and behind a tourist direction board, shielding them from the traffic of the road and incidentally affording them a spectacular view of the natural pasture, scatterings of trees and a slow moving river in the distance. He cut the engine and sat still, listening to the motor tick its heat away.

Wilson didn’t move away, didn’t withdraw his arms, didn’t move a muscle as his breathing slowed and evened out. Finally he pulled his hands away from House’s stomach and loosed the helmet strap, pulling it off his head and running his fingernails over his scalp. House reached back and took the helmet, placing it over one of the mirrors on the handlebar. Then, to House’s surprise, Wilson wound his arms back around House’s torso. House hoped he didn’t move any further than that, lest the other man feel the definite interest House was feeling in continuing the full body contact.

“So,” House voice hitched and stopped. He cleared his throat and tried again. “So, that wasn’t so bad then, was it?” His voice was still a low growl, rougher than usual.

“I think you just take particular joy in scaring the hell out of me,” Wilson said, his own voice a low rumble in his throat. He shifted a little on the hard seat.

House stiffened. Did he feel…? He pressed back minutely against the other man. Oh, yes, he did feel. His own breath sounded ragged as it sped up and his heart thudded dully in his own ears. His blood flooded to his groin and he felt immediately dizzy from the rush. He pressed back again and was gratified to feel the other man even harder than before, the heat radiating against the small of his back.

“I don’t know, I thought you might enjoy it if you relaxed enough,” House rasped out, his hands hovering shakily over Wilson’s knees as they squeezed his thighs in a vice grip, his hips wriggling back against Wilson’s heat helplessly.

“I think I can see why you like it,” Wilson whispered, directly into House’s ear. “It’s the closest you can get to flying without having wings.” He tightened his arms and tugged House’s body even closer to his own. “And you wanted to take me flying with you.”

Suddenly House jerked away from Wilson and clambered off the bike, staggering a little as he landed on his bad leg. Wilson startled visibly and pulled himself back to the edge of the seat, turning his flushed face away and rubbing a hand over his brow.

House lunged back to the bike and swung his leg back over the seat the other way, turned backwards to the controls. He swept the shades off his face and dropped them carelessly to the cement beside him, grasping Wilson’s cheek with his other hand and forcing the man’s head around to face him.

“No, no,” House muttered, “just needed to…” he stopped, not finding the words he wanted. Finally, he just stopped talking altogether and pressed forward, finding Wilson’s lips with his own.

The other man stilled, stiffened, then made a small, low noise in the back of his throat. His mouth opened under House’s and his hands found their way back around House’s body, one skimming the low waist of his jeans and the other clutching at the back of his neck, fingers carding through the soft strands of hair curling against his collar. His breath puffed across House’s cheek softly.

House probed softly with his tongue, tasting Wilson’s lips, mapping the hot cavern of his mouth, sliding gently against teeth and palate. His arms wound tightly around the other man, holding him close and secure as if afraid he would make a break for it. He rocked his hips forward and silently cursed the king/queen seat, making it impossible to find the friction he wanted. With a growl he thrust himself backwards and leaned back across the tank, pulling Wilson with him.

Wilson fell forward, taken by surprise, and landed heavily atop House’s body, gasping as his erect penis hit squarely onto House’s own, eliciting a matching gasp and a grimace on House’s face as his thigh registered its protest at the treatment. Wilson slid his leg downwards and off the scar, hooking his ankle over the passenger peg to keep it out of the way. Then he raised his eyes to House’s, took in the wide eyed stare and glazed look, and pushed forward again to resume kissing.

House wasted no time in squirming a hand down between them and fumbling with the button on his jeans, pushing down the zipper and then attacking Wilson’s pants as well.

Suddenly, Wilson pushed away, supported himself with one hand on the tank beside House’s head and unbuckled his own belt. As he did that he looked up at House, eyes squinting, and said, “Here? Really?”

House pushed himself up on one elbow and wrapped his arm around Wilson’s neck, bringing him back within reach. He kissed Wilson again quickly, then licked and nibbled his way along Wilson’s jaw line to the hollow beneath his ear and nipped at his earlobe quickly before whispering, “Yes, here.” He pulled back and looked Wilson in the eye again. “Unless you want to say no.”

Finally Wilson managed to get his pants open with just one hand and let himself fall back down onto House. “No, here is good. I should have guessed you’d have a bike fetish.”

“Always wanted to try this on a bike,” House whispered between kisses down Wilson’s throat, wriggling his hips until his hard, aching cock lined up with Wilson’s rigid one. They gasped together at the touch, going still for just a moment. House relaxed back over the tank, resting the back of his head on the instrument cluster. He pulled urgently at Wilson’s shoulders and tugged the other man close, tucking his head into Wilson’s neck, breathing in the scent of the man, wind and sweat and aftershave.

Wilson tried to thrust his hips against House’s but had no leverage. Grunting slightly, he raised his hands up and grasped the handlebars on either side of House’s head, then stretched his feet back until he found the rear passenger pegs again, balancing on them on the balls of his feet. Having found his balance, he gave an experimental thrust.

House squeezed his eyes shut and tipped his head back as the shock of the contact raced through his body. He ground out a moan and dropped his hands to Wilson’s ass, digging his long fingers into the soft flesh and pulling Wilson back against him. Wilson found a rhythm and began to rock, rubbing the underside of his cock against the underside of House’s, brushing against the little hotspot of nerves just under the head of them both. House rocked back up against him, kneading and squeezing the round globes of Wilson’s ass cheeks as he did.

The sweat and the semen drops coming from them both mixed to create a natural lubricant, easing the slide and creating a juxtaposition of heat and coolness as the air around them breezed against their wet flesh. Wilson groaned raggedly and speeded up his thrusts, losing his rhythm and spasming frantically against House, on the edge of his orgasm. His eyes screwed closed and his mouth dropped open against House’s neck, his forehead resting on the edge of the gas tank as he froze. His hips stuttered to a stop. Suddenly House felt a rush of heat flooding over his lower belly, pulsing in time to Wilson’s puffed gasps. He thrust raggedly upwards into the heat and wetness, once, twice, then moaned through his own release, fingers digging even harder into Wilson’s ass and pulling him close with all his might.

For a moment or two neither of them moved. They lay, Wilson draped over House, panting into each other’s throats, hands fluttering over arms and backs and butts as if not sure where they should land. Finally House just wrapped his arms around Wilson’s torso in a bear hug, squeezing hard, and Wilson simply wrapped his arms around House’s shoulders.

“What…” Wilson began.

“Shhh,” House interrupted. “I’m basking.”

Wilson snorted against House’s throat. “Bask faster. This is really uncomfortable to lay on.”

“You’re telling me?” House asked with a small laugh. “I’m the one with a gas cap in the shoulder blade.”

This time Wilson gave in to the laughter as he pushed up and away from House, maneuvering himself back up and onto the higher back seat of the bike and then offering House a hand up. House took it and pulled himself back up to an almost-sitting position.

“Wait, hold on,” House mumbled, patting the pockets of his jacket. “Here.” He pulled out a crumpled red bandana and offered it to Wilson.

Wilson raised an eyebrow but took it nonetheless, swiping efficiently at the wet streaks on his belly before folding it once and handing it back. He quickly did up his pants again and then sat, looking at House.

“What?” House asked as he smeared the drying come across his own belly, pulling down his t-shirt and zipping his jeans.

Wilson merely quirked one side of his mouth downward and narrowed his eyes at the other man.

“Well, it seemed like maybe you actually enjoyed the bike ride, so I thought I’d take a shot.”

“Why would you think I enjoyed the ride?” Wilson asked, genuinely perplexed.

“The hard-on stuck in the middle of my back was a bit of a clue.” House refused to meet Wilson’s eyes, instead carefully extracting himself from the seat and leaning back against the bike while he stretched his legs.

Wilson gave a small laugh. “Would you believe me if I said that it was because of the vibrations?”

House finally looked up at met Wilson’s gaze. A small smile played about his lips. “No.”

“Good.”

House impulsively reached over and cupped his hand behind Wilson’s head, pulling him forward and into a kiss which quickly went from chaste to erotic and back again. He said nothing as he broke away and awkwardly swung himself back into the driver’s seat. He turned the key and punched the engine to life again.

This time Wilson put his own arms around House’s body and held him close as the bike took off down the highway.


End file.
